


Glad You're Here

by 4ce_in_sp4ce



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bed sharing, mild questioning of reality, near death(ish?) experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce_in_sp4ce/pseuds/4ce_in_sp4ce
Summary: Of all the people Eames had thought he might end up cradling in an abandoned garage hoping desperately they didn't bleed out, Arthur certainly hadn't been at the top of the list, but here they were.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 160





	Glad You're Here

“Shit!” Eames ducked down behind the car, bullet barely missing his head as it slammed down into the concrete. This was bad. The mark’s projections had been difficult from the start, but three levels down they were ruthless and efficient. Eames wondered for what felt like the thousandth time why he’d ever agreed to take this job. Multiple levels were bad news, he should’ve known that by now. “I thought it was your job to plan for this shit!”

“I _told_ you all he’d had extractor training. It was everyone else’s job to fucking plan accordingly.” Arthur reloaded quickly, firing off several shots before ducking back down beside Eames. His tone was tight and clipped, expression unreadable. “At least we got the information.”

“Yeah, that was the easy part. Now we just have to get back out alive.”

“How long until the drop?”

Eames glanced at his watch, flinching as another round pierced the car door. “15 minutes.”

“Great.” Arthur got off another four rapid fire shots, taking out two of the projections, before dropping down again. Eames had to give him credit; despite having worked together for quite some time by now he was still somehow always surprised at how effective he was in a shootout, even if his weapon choices could use a little more imagination. “We’re too exposed out here, we need to get into the building.”

“Yeah, you want to fuckin’ try getting across that?” Eames gestured at the nearly 50 feet of open concrete between them and the opening to the garage. “We’ll end this job as mincemeat if we try that. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly fancy ending up in my own subconscious until my brain’s a pile of scrambled eggs.”

Arthur considered the open space carefully. Eames recognized his expression, the look of careful calculation he got whenever he was working through a particularly hard problem or trying to find an especially difficult piece of information. It was never a good sign when it came up during a job itself. “How many rounds do you have left?”

“Arthur, there’s no way we can make it.”

“How many rounds?”

“My current clip is mostly full and I have one more clip besides that. After that I’m out.”

Arthur nodded. “Just about same.” 

Eames sighed. “We can’t make it, you know we can’t. We’ll be swiss fuckin’ cheese before we get halfway.”

The car shuddered as another round of bullets hit it, one of them nearly hitting Eames’ leg as it tore through. Arthur glared at him. “Do you have a better idea? We won’t last 5 more minutes out here, much less 15. Our only hope of still being alive when the drop comes is if we’re in that garage.” 50 feet was a long way. Eames was a fast runner and a good shot, but he doubted even he and Arthur together could lay down enough suppressing fire as they ran to keep from being killed. The window above them shattered, raining bits of glass on them. “Make up your fucking mind, Eames, we don’t have all day!”

Eames gripped his gun, taking a slow, deep breath. "They seem to all reload around the same time. If we go then, it should buy us at least a few seconds. Sound good?" Arthur nodded. Eames waited, listening, waiting for the brief pause that signaled they could go. He knew Arthur was right, they were too exposed out here, but there was no way they’d make it in time. The shooting was slowing slightly and he tensed. It slowed slightly more and… “Now!”

40 feet. Arthur was the first to turn and shoot, Eames turning and starting as soon as he stopped. If they could alternate and keep a relatively steady stream of fire they might be able to provide themselves with enough cover to get inside. Maybe. 

30 feet. He’d figured they’d get shot within the first 10 or 15 feet, so this was a pleasant surprise, not that he had much time to enjoy it. 

20 feet. The door was closer and closer and if whatever luck they had decided to stick around for a few more seconds they might actually get out of this alive. 

10 feet. _Holy shit, we might actually make it, we might…_

He heard Arthur yell as he was turning to provide a last round of covering fire, and he was already on the ground by the time Eames caught sight of him. "Shit!" He hooked his arm around Arthur and dragged him towards the door, firing indiscriminately towards the projections until they were through the door and safely behind the wall. "Fuck's sake, Arthur, I thought we were actually going to make it and then you had to go and get yourself shot."

Arthur gave him a thin smile laced with pain. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah yeah, save your apologies for when we get out of here. You can buy me a fuckin' drink or something." He pulled Arthur's jacket off, trying to take stock of the situation. It wasn't good. He'd been shot twice, once in the chest and once in the stomach, and the blood stains were growing quickly. Eames pulled his own jacket off and pressed it against the stain on Arthur's stomach, which seemed to be the more rapidly growing of the two. "Keep this pressed here."

"I know what to do. Not my first time being shot."

"Let's hope it's not your last."

Arthur frowned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Eames grimaced. "That didn't quite come out right, sorry."

"Did you actually just apologize to me? Didn't think you had it in you."

"Shut up. How's your breathing?"

"Not great." Arthur winced as he tried to breath in, the breath turning into a cough part way through. "Think I probably have a collapsed lung." 

The building shook as a heavy round hit the wall. Eames glanced at his watch. 12 minutes. He grabbed Arthur's jacket from the ground beside him and pressed it against the hole in his chest. This was bad. Arthur wasn't going to make it 12 minutes, not with how much he was bleeding, and uptight prick or not Eames didn't want to watch him die.

"I'm fine." Eames looked up, surprised. Arthur was watching him with a tight smile. "Focus on keeping the projections from breaching the building. We'll both die if that happens. Don't worry about me, I think I can hold a couple of jackets in place. I'm fine."

"No, you have a hole in your chest and your stomach and you're bleeding." _Badly_. Eames didn't say it, but they both knew that was how the sentence ended. He was bleeding badly. He applied more pressure, biting down on the fear rising in his chest. "If that's you're definition of fine, we need to have a fuckin' talk when we get out of here." 

"No point in…" Arthur stopped, words dissolving into painful coughing. Eames frowned and pulled Arthur up slightly, trying to get him into a better sitting position. "No point in both of us dying. Watch the door."

"You're not dying," Eames muttered. "We're almost to the drop. You're going to be fine." Arthur tried to give him another tight smile but the pain won out, turning it into a grimace. "You have to be. Who else would I bicker with constantly?"

"You and…" Eames did his best to ignore the blood that came up with this round of coughing. "You and Cobb can go at it pretty good sometimes."

"No, I argue with him, not bicker. It's different." 

"What the hell's the difference?"

Eames shrugged. "I don't like arguing."

"But you do like bickering?"

"With you, yeah. It's fun. And I don't feel like having to find someone else to bicker with, so you're not allowed to die. Too inconvenient."

Arthur laughed slightly. "That's the…the whole point of dying here, you know. Inconveniencing you." He winced as another round shook the building. "Only reason I'm doing this."

"Very funny, asshole." Fear began turning into panic in Eames' chest. Arthur's normally pale skin was starting to look grey and he was beginning to slur some of his words. Eames looked around desperately for something, _anything_ , that could help, but the garage was empty save for some overturned tables and rusted scrap metal. _Shit._ Arthur began coughing again, blood running down his chin. He closed his eyes as the coughing subsided but Eames shook him until he opened them again, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Hey, come on, keep your eyes open. You have to stay awake, no dying on me just yet. It's just another, another," he glanced down at his watch. "8 minutes. Another 8 minutes and then we're out of here."

Arthur nodded. "I'm fine. It's just…it's only a flesh wound."

Eames frowned, surprised. "Seriously? _Now?_ Didn’t think you even liked that movie."

"I don't. You do though." He smiled weakly. "Just trying to…put you at ease. I don't like you looking at me so…so worried." The walls shook again, showering dust and bits of plaster on the two of them. Arthur rested his head against the wall when the shaking stopped. "I'm not going to make it, Eames. It's alright."

"No, it's not. You're going to be fine. I'm not losing you." Eames took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He wasn't going to lose Arthur. He just needed to keep him alive for 7 more minutes and he'd be fine. He wasn't going to lose him. "You're going to owe me a drink for scaring me this badly though, you hear me? A strong drink too."

"I'm the one shot but you're…the one owed a drink? I don't…I don't think that's how this works."

"Fine, we both owe each other a drink."

Arthur laughed slightly, closing his eyes again. "Didn't think you…even liked me."

"Course I do. You're a tightass, sure, but you're still my friend. Course I like you." He brought a hand up to Arthur's face. "Come on, stay with me Arthur. Just a few more minutes. You have to keep your eyes open."

"'M tired. Just a…a few minutes. Just a rest."

"Sorry, mate, but you can't. Not yet, okay?"

“Okay.” Arthur’s voice was almost too quiet to hear over the ongoing firing outside, and he was slurring more of his words. “I’ll try to…stay awake. For you.”

“Good.” Arthur’s grip on the jacket covering his stomach had loosened, so Eames pressed it against the wound for him, apologizing when he felt Arthur wince. “You have to keep this in place, alright? Can’t have you bleeding out on me. I know you’re tired, but do the best you can.”

Arthur nodded, his grip on the jacket tightening slightly. “How long?”

“Just under 5 minutes. We’re almost out.” Eames looked up when Arthur didn’t respond. "Arthur?" He shook him again but Arthur didn't open his eyes this time. "Arthur? Come on, open your eyes." No response. "Please, Arthur, come on, you don’t even have to open your eyes. Just say something. Let me know you're still with me." His voice broke slightly. Arthur was still breathing, but it was slow and laboured and Eames knew he wasn’t going to open his eyes again. 

Another large round hit the building and part of the wall finally gave way. Eames knew he should get his gun and fire back, the projections were going to start moving in unless he fired back, but he couldn’t. Arthur would bleed out if he didn’t hold the jackets in place. They probably weren’t doing much good anymore, he knew that, they were completely soaked through with blood already, but the pressure might still help. It had to help. It had to.

“Shit!” Eames ducked as several bullets ricocheted past him. The hole in the wall had made them too exposed again, they needed some form of cover. He pulled Arthur behind an overturned table while trying to keep as much pressure on his wounds as he could. His gun was on the ground next to him but he doubted it would be much help by this point if the garage was breached. There was barely any ammo left anyways. He leaned against the wall, Arthur leaning limply against him, and tried to look down at his watch. The face was smeared with blood but he was pretty sure they were 2 minutes from the drop. They were close. 

Of all the people Eames had thought he might end up cradling in an abandoned garage hoping desperately they didn't bleed out, Arthur certainly hadn't been at the top of the list, but here they were. He could still feel Arthur breathing against him. It was slower and shallower, but still there. He could still make it. He had to. Eames pressed the jackets against Arthur a little tighter, trying not to think about how saturated with blood they already were. He was going to be okay. He’d make it until the drop and then they’d both wake up and go back to bickering and sniping at each other like they always had and Eames would just be a little more grateful each time Arthur shot back with some annoying response. He could hear people yelling outside the garage, the mark’s projections were closing it. It was going to be close but they were almost there. Less than a minute now. Almost there. They were almost…

Waking up had gotten less disorienting over the years but Eames sat up quickly, looking around. He hadn’t had a nightmare in well over a decade, but he vaguely remembered waking up from one feeling like this: heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins, body tense and ready to bolt or fight. Cobb frowned and looked over at him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The shootout had really shaken him, he hadn’t reacted to waking like this since he’d gotten into the business, but he was at least probably having an easier than Arthur was. 

_Arthur._

Eames was up out of his seat immediately, standing up so quickly he nearly lost his balance and had to grab onto the overhead luggage rack to steady himself. Arthur was sitting across from him, eyes still closed. Eames was pretty sure he remembered Arthur still breathing when they dropped but he wasn’t completely sure, he could’ve been wrong, what if Arthur hadn’t made it? He should’ve woken up by now, what if the drop had been too late? He crossed the aisle unsteadily, crouching beside Arthur’s seat, and gripped Arthur’s wrist, shaking it slightly. He could feel the rest of the crew watching him curiously but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. “Arthur?”

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the light of the train car. He frowned. “Eames?”

Eames grinned at him, feeling almost lightheaded with relief. “Hey. Thought I might’ve lost you there for a minute.” He gave Arthur’s wrist a light squeeze and stood up, shrugging apologetically in response to Ariadne's quizzical look. “Things got rough on that last level.”

They filed out of the train car slowly, waiting a minute or so between each exit to avoid drawing attention. Eames settled into his new seat, smiling politely at the woman across from him. The crowd and lack of privacy made economy class terrible for jobs but wonderful for blending in after finishing one. Even if the mark realized what had happened and remembered what they looked like, which wasn’t likely, it was hard to pick a half remembered face out of a full train car. He looked out the window, letting out the last bit of breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He still had to get to the hotel without incident but the hard part of the job was over. They’d made it.

XXX

“I guess I owe you a drink, don’t I?”

Eames looked up from the bar, startled out of his thoughts. Arthur had sat down next to him, wearing one of his impeccable suits as always and looking at least a little better than he had when Eames had last seen him on the train. Eames motioned for the bartender. “I seem to remember you thinking it was unfair you were the one buying the drink.”

“I still do, but I suppose I’m willing to put up with it as long as you keep your promise to buy me one too.”

“Fair enough. You did get shot, so I guess you deserve it.” He smiled at the bartender’s brief look of confusion. “Whiskey, please.”

“Make it two.”

“So how’re you feeling? You looked pretty out of it when I last saw you.”

“Definitely the worst wake up I’ve had in awhile. I had to have the cab pull over on the way to the hotel so that I could throw up.” Arthur shrugged. “I’m fine though. It was just a dream.”

Eames nodded, accepting the glass of whiskey from the bartender gratefully. It was smooth, high quality. Certainly higher quality than anything he drank regularly. One of the perks of working for rich clients, he supposed; the accommodations were always nice. “Actually thought I’d lost you for a bit there at the end.”

“I thought you did too, honestly.” Arthur took a drink. “When I felt myself losing consciousness I figured I’d wake up in limbo, not on the train.”

Eames glanced over. Arthur’s tone was casual, but Eames could see how tightly he was gripping the glass. “I could still feel you breathing, so I figured you’d be okay. Took your sweet time waking up though. Scared the shit out of me, thought the drop had maybe just been a few seconds too late. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as relieved as I did when you finally got around to opening your eyes.”

“I’m still rather surprised that you like me enough to not want me dead. Given how you react every time I say something I just always assumed you couldn't stand me." 

"I could probably start hating you if that's what you want. You do make it pretty easy."

Arthur laughed. "No, I'm fine with you not hating me. Just a bit surprised is all." He paused. "I suppose I consider you a pretty good friend by this point too, so I’m glad it’s mutual.”

“Oh I never said I considered you a _friend_ , just that I didn’t hate you.”

“Fuck you. See if I’m ever nice to you again.”

Eames laughed, taking a drink. It was nice to bicker again without the threat of Arthur’s possible death looming over him. They sat in a silence that threatened to be awkward for a few minutes, drinking slowly. Arthur kept his gaze focused on the bar, his expression unreadable and distant. Eames felt a pang of concern. “You alright?”

Arthur shrugged. “Yeah, I’m just thinking.” He took another drink, still not looking at Eames. “I'm glad you were there. On that level. I wouldn't have made it if I'd been alone. So thank you."

Eames nodded, not sure what to say. His mind flashed unbidden to the feeling of Arthur struggling to breath against him, blood pooling in his hands as he held the jackets against Arthur’s wounds. Something tightened in his chest and he inhaled sharply, trying to make it loosen. 

“Hey.” Eames looked over, startled. Arthur’s hand was resting on his forearm and he was watching Eames with open concern. “Are _you_ alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just…” Eames took a deep, if somewhat shaky, breath. “No bullshit, you really scared me back there. I really thought you weren’t going to make it. You’re a friend and, bickering or no, it would’ve been hard to lose you. Would’ve hurt. And I’m just…glad I didn’t.”

Arthur watched him, surprised, for a moment before squeezing his arm lightly. “Sorry for scaring you.” He kept his hand resting on Eames’ forearm for a moment longer before picking his drink back up. “I’m glad you were there with me.”

They fell back into silence, more companionable than awkward this time. The tightness in Eames’ chest loosened somewhat. Arthur was okay. They’d made it out in time. It didn’t fully go away though. The image of Arthur leaning against the wall, barely conscious and bleeding out, wouldn’t quite leave his mind. He took a drink and glanced over, frowning when he noticed the small die in Arthur’s hand. “That’s your totem, isn’t it?”

Arthur looked down, closing his hand around it. “Yeah.”

“Surprised you have it out.”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know. Just…”

Eames watched him for a moment before it clicked. “Checking to make sure you aren’t in limbo.”

“Yeah.” Arthur sighed, shoulders dropping. “I know I’m not, I’ve been checking my totem since the train, but I just…I just keep worrying that maybe I misremembered. Maybe it _isn’t_ weighted properly, maybe I really am in limbo and my mind’s just trying to deny it. Maybe the drop really was too late, maybe I didn’t…”

“Arthur.” Eames paused, taken aback by the look on Arthur’s face when he looked up. Fear. Arthur was afraid, and Eames had never seen him wear it so plainly. He placed his hand on Arthur’s fist. “It’s alright. _You’re_ alright. You’re awake, back in the real world.” He thought for a moment. “You have to be. Your projection of me would never be this nice.”

Arthur laughed slightly, looking back down. “Good point.” Eames could feel him clenching his fist. “My projection of you would be far less flattering.”

“Exactly. So that means you must be awake. Though now I sort of want to meet your projection of me.”

“Absolutely not.” Arthur’s laugh was a little more genuine this time. “I don’t actually know what he’d be like, but I have a feeling I’d never live it down.”

"Oh definitely. I'd make fun of you for it forever." Eames grinned. "Wouldn't even matter what he was like." He realized his hand was still resting on Arthur's and cleared his throat, moving his hand and pointedly ignoring the look the bartender was giving them. “I’m sure I could find something to never let up on you about.”

“I have no doubt.” Arthur had opened his hand back up and was staring down at the die. “You’re very good at that.”

“Hey, come on.” Eames laid his hand back on Arthur’s forearm. “Don’t go down that path. Might not like where you end up.” 

Arthur nodded and slipped the die into his pocket. He picked up his drink and held it out towards Eames. “To not dying.”

“To not dying.” Eames tapped his glass against Arthur's. "Fuckin' cheers to that." Arthur looked a bit better, but Eames knew him. Arthur was a researcher. He thought through things and obsessed over them for a goddamn living, and he had the far away look he always got when he was thinking through a hard problem. "You should get some sleep after this. You look like you could use it."

Arthur grimaced. "Yeah, probably."

"You don't look too thrilled at the prospect."

"I'll be fine."

Eames nodded. They finished their drinks in silence. Arthur's hand occasionally dropped down to his pocket but he didn't pull the die out again. After a few minutes Eames motioned for the bartender, laughing when Arthur swapped the bills. "We got the exact same drink. It doesn't matter who pays, it's the same price."

"It's the principle of the thing. I said I'd buy you a drink, so that's what I'm going to do."

"Alright, alright, no need to be pushy about it. I'm not complaining, just pointing it out." He clapped Arthur on the shoulder as they stood up. "Bit of a pointless gesture but I appreciate it nonetheless."

Eames watched Arthur in the elevator mirror on the ride up to their floor. He still had his distant expression, brow creased in thought. Eames frowned when he noticed Arthur had slipped his hand back into his pocket. He'd seen Cobb go down a similar path after Mal died, one he'd only started crawling off of in the past year or so, and it had nearly destroyed him. The constant checking of what was real, constant doubting of reality, Eames could already see it starting in Arthur and he had no doubt it would nearly destroy him too if he continued. He stopped outside his room, grabbing Arthur's arm lightly. "You going to be okay tonight?"

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"The hand in your pocket with your totem says otherwise."

He looked down, looking almost embarrassed. "I-I'm fine."

"Listen, you're freaked out. I would be too after what happened. You don't have to…you can stay with me tonight if you want." Eames could feel his face growing hot and he knew he was turning red. Hopefully the dim lights of the hallways hid most of it. "If that would help."

Arthur looked at him, surprised, and Eames felt a bit better to see his face get a bit red too. He opened his mouth, but it took a moment before any words came out. "I-I don't want to impose…"

"Full honesty? I'm a bit freaked out too. And I'm worried about you. So if staying with someone would help you, it'd help me too." 

Arthur paused, looking unsure. "You're sure you wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did. You know me well enough to know that."

"Yeah, I-I know." Arthur nodded and looked down. "I'm just…I'm going to grab a few things from my room."

"Course." Eames unlocked his door and handed the key card to Arthur. "You can just come in when you get back." Arthur nodded again and headed down the hallway to his room. Eames closed the door behind him, face burning. A quick glance into the mirror in the entryway let him know he was exactly as red as he thought. What the hell was he doing asking Arthur to stay with him? This was _Arthur_. He was one of the most uptight, proper people Eames had ever met. He'd barely been able to stand him the first few jobs they'd worked together. Even if they'd managed to become friends this was still weird of him to offer, much less do. The memory of Arthur struggling to stay conscious, trying to put Eames at ease despite knowing he was dying, ran through his mind though and he felt his chest get tight again. Weird or not, it would be nice to have Arthur close by. Just to remind him they'd made it out alright.

Eames heard the door open as he was changing, and Arthur was standing awkwardly by the coffee table when he walked out. He set the bag down. "I can, um, I'll just sleep on the couch."

"What? No, you're not sleeping on the couch. You got shot. If anyone's sleeping on the couch it'll be me."

"Absolutely not. It's your room, I'm not kicking you out of your own bed. Besides, it was a dream, it's not like I'm actually injured."

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Arthur. That's final. If you're really that insistent then we'll just share the bed." Eames shrugged casually, trying to will himself to stop blushing. "It's king sized, so there's plenty of room for both of us." He walked over to the bed, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt. What the fuck was he doing? Offering to let Arthur stay the night with him was one thing; sharing a bed with him was something very different.

He half expected Arthur to argue but after a moment he followed Eames over to the bed and set his bag down, pulling some clothes out. He stood up, still looking awkward. "Alright if I use your bathroom?"

"No, Arthur, you can stay in my room but you absolutely cannot use my bathroom. That's too far." Arthur stared at him, confused, and Eames sighed. "That was a joke. Of course you can use the bathroom." He couldn't help but laugh as the realization and slight embarrassment dawned on Arthur's face.

He glanced over at the couch while Arthur was changing. Maybe he should just get set up on the couch before Arthur came back out. There really wasn't a need for them to share a bed, the couch was comfortable enough to sleep on, but he knew Arthur would argue about it as soon as he came out and they’d end up right back where they were currently. He sighed and pulled the covers back. Arthur could be stubborn as hell when he wanted to be, and Eames knew well enough that sharing the bed was probably as close to a compromise as they were going to get on the subject. He looked up as Arthur walked back in. "You know, I don't think I've ever actually seen you in a t-shirt. I think the most casual thing I’ve ever seen you wear is a button up shirt without a suit jacket.”

"Shut up." Arthur crouched by his bag, folding his suit carefully. It was strange seeing him in such casual clothes. He wasn’t a large man, Eames had certainly teased him about his height on more than one occasion, but a baggy t-shirt and boxers made him look even smaller. He looked slim in a suit but now he almost looked thin, his shirt hanging off him loosely. Eames looked away, embarrassed, when he realized he was starting to stare. Arthur hesitated beside the bed. “I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch if you’d prefer that. It’s fine, really.”

Eames rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, just get in bed. I told you you’re not sleeping on the couch.” He reached over and turned the lamp out, feeling the bed dip slightly as Arthur climbed in. He was suddenly very glad the lights were out; there was definitely no need for Arthur to see how red he was sure his face was getting again. He rolled over, his back to Arthur, hoping to fall asleep quickly. He was certainly tired, it had been a long day, but he felt hyper aware of Arthur laying next to him. The bed was plenty big for both of them, they weren’t even lying particularly close to each other, but Eames seemed to feel every time he moved.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore Arthur shifting beside him. He’d shared beds with people before, this shouldn’t be a problem. Hell he knew Arthur better than probably half the people he’d shared a bed with. They were friends. This was fine. And besides, this way he would know Arthur was okay. He could hear him breathing quietly. Steadily. Not like before. Eames tried to stop his mind from going back to the job, to Arthur’s laboured and shallow breathing, but it was useless. The tightness in his chest returned full force and he gripped the covers tightly, trying to block the memories out. He didn't want to think about Arthur wincing as he tried to breathe, or how he'd started slurring his words as he began to lose consciousness, eyes unfocused. He was _fine_ now, he was okay, they'd made it out alright. _I'm not going to make it, Eames. It's alright._ Arthur had sounded so sure, sure that he wouldn't make it, that he was going to die before the drop, and he'd almost been right. Eames knew they'd been close, that there had been a very real chance Arthur wouldn't open his eyes when they woke up on the train, but he didn't want to think about that. He tried to focus on Arthur shifting beside him, but he'd gone still. Eames froze, waiting for him to move, to shift, _something_ , but he seemed completely still. The tightness in his chest began turning into fear as his mind went back to how still Arthur had been leaning against him, his shallow breathing the only thing letting Eames know he was still alive, _he wasn’t going to…_

“Eames?” Arthur shifted slightly. His voice was quiet, but loud enough to interrupt the panicked spiral of Eames’ thoughts. “You alright? You got…really still all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine.” Eames opened his eyes and rolled over, taking a shaky breath. Arthur was laying with his back to him. “Got a little wrapped up in my thoughts is all. Things just…creep up on you when it’s dark and quiet I guess.”

Arthur shifted again. “I suppose they do.”

Eames reached out under the covers until his hand brushed against Arthur’s back, not even fully aware he was doing it until Arthur stiffened slightly in surprise. He pulled his hand back quickly, embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was…didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” Arthur gave a small one shoulder shrug. “I-I don’t mind. You just surprised me a bit.”

Eames reached back out hesitantly, resting his fingers against Arthur’s shoulder blade. The contact was warm, even under the covers. “You were so still right before the drop. I could barely even feel you breathing.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t even sure Arthur could fully hear him, wasn’t sure he wanted him to. “I keep thinking about that. How still you were.” He pressed his hand more fully against Arthur’s back. “How I knew I was watching you die.” He could feel Arthur curl up slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I-I think.” Arthur took a deep, unsteady breath. “No. I don’t know.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to be okay. I don’t think either of us really are right now.” Eames hesitated. “Is it alright for me to…if I move closer?”

“Yeah.”

Eames slid closer until there was less than a foot between them, moving his hand up to Arthur’s arm. He felt like he should be embarrassed, he probably would be later, but it was comforting being this close. He paused then moved slightly closer, resting his forehead between Arthur’s shoulder blades. His face felt hot again, but that might have just been how close they were. He doubted it though. “Is this…is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Arthur’s voice was barely audible. After a moment he reached up and moved Eames’ arm hesitantly so that it was draped across his waist. Eames closed the last bit of distance between them until Arthur’s back was pressed up against his chest. “Thank you.”

Eames exhaled, the tightness in his chest releasing somewhat. “Of course.” He closed his eyes and held Arthur a little tighter, Arthur relaxing against him. It was easier to ignore the memories like this, the image of Arthur bleeding out against the wall offset by the feeling of his back against Eames’ chest, the warmth of their bodies pressed together. He smiled a few minutes later as he felt Arthur’s hand around his, their fingers intertwining slightly, as he started to drift off. He supposed they should talk about this, but that could come later. Not now. “I’m glad you’re safe. Glad you’re _here_.”

“So am I.”


End file.
